


We Are Marionettes By Strings Animated, Yet Like Lovers Of Strings Liberated

by Eos_of_the_Dawn



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Choking, Discipline, F/F, Praise Kink, Rough Body Play, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, resident evil 8 - freeform, resident evil village - Freeform, tall vampire milf go brrrrr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29000169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eos_of_the_Dawn/pseuds/Eos_of_the_Dawn
Summary: This is what really happened at the end of the Resident Evil Village demo. ;)
Relationships: Lady Dimitrescu/YN
Comments: 26
Kudos: 354





	1. You Can't Run, My Little Pet

**Author's Note:**

> I was possessed to write down my deeply kinky fantasy of the 8ft big tiddy vampire lady because it made me too horny to sleep. So please enjoy.

From the depths of the dungeon you had crawled, frantically seeking escape from your mysterious captors. Through secret passages and gold-trimmed rooms you crept ever carefully. Yet you could not escape the feel of eyes upon you, the whispers of someone just out of sight caressing your ears over the pounding of your own heart. You’d glimpsed the shadow of a woman ascending the stairs, her veil drifting behind her as though caught by an unseen breeze. There was a part of you, below the primal clawing fear, that was curious, _enamored_ even, of the strange sight. It stilled your feet and turned your gaze to follow. It nearly moved your legs to pursue her if not for the unease that was buried in instinct. Millions of years of evolution screaming: _predator._

Tearing your eyes away, you renewed your search for escape. So many locked doors, but there must be a key. A key to salvation’s door. It must have been providence then to find just such a key after many opened cabinets and scattered papers, the fates of whose authors you dared not imagine.

Perhaps, in your elation, your steps had been too hurried as you raced down the stairs. So eager to get out that you missed the whisper that said, _“I’m watching you.”_ All you know is that veiled shadow now stands in front of you, hungry eyes piercing her veil. The edges of her dark form falter as she dissolves into a swarm of insects before your very eyes. There’s no time for thought as you bolt in the opposite direction. Angry buzzing follows you as you circle the furniture in the foyer desperately hoping that you are fast enough.

You burst through the door and slam it shut behind you, praying that it’s sturdy enough to hold her, even for just a moment. Key held tight in your fist, you race to the courtyard door. Trembling hands nearly drop the thing you risked your life for as you search for the keyhole. Insert, turn, then the click of the lock that floods you with relief. You start to pull open the door—

You are pushed back by the sudden force of a large figure bursting through the door. For a moment, time seems to slow as the towering woman hunches herself to fit through the entrance. Your eyes travel up and up her curvaceous form as she rises to her full height. Her eyes glaring hungrily at you, her smile one of malicious glee, all looming above you so that you must crane your neck to gaze at her. And gaze you do because it’s all you’re able to muster. Your heart races an uneven pace for the fear that saturated your blood was now mixed with something just as primal, but far less suited to the situation.

Her hand seizing you by the throat only confirms that yes, it is desire you feel rushing over you. You grasp at her wrist, but don’t fight nearly as hard as you should. Deep down you enjoy it, even though you shouldn’t. Your face flushes from effort, desire, embarrassment. Long sharp nails extend from the hand not gripping your neck. She reels back her arms to strike. You squeeze your eyes shut knowing that this is the end.

What you hear instead is the sound of those talons slicing the wall behind you. Hesitant, you peek with one eye to see the Lady Dimitrescu still grinning down at you, sword-like nails imbedded in the wood paneling.

“You can’t go running off like that, my pet,” she croons to you. “Much too dangerous a place out there for a little thing like you.”

Her words, though spoken softly, held a sharp threat. And in hearing them you learn that you enjoy the sound of it. You rub your thighs together without realizing.

She smirks deliciously and retracts her nails. “Looking at me like that, one might believe you’re thinking of something… _unsavory_.”

You freeze in place, causing her to chuckle in a dark tone. “Oh, ho, ho! It seems like our little maiden here is guilty of some very impure thoughts,” she says, her words cutting to your core and filling you with fresh shame. Hand still gripping your throat, she starts walking you backwards. Her voice lowers to a husky whisper. “You like me playing rough with you, hm?”

You jolt as you feel the edge of the table hit your lower backside. Instead of stopping there, she lifts you by the neck, holding you there for a moment before slamming you down onto the ornate surface. The cups and plates are scattered, shattering as they crash to the floor. Her beautiful, dangerous form towers over you. She eases the pressure on your neck just enough to keep you breathing, but still tight enough to keep any thoughts of struggling out of your mind.

The Lady tilts her head to the side and tsks. “You’ve certainly been misbehaving, my pet. It seems I need to teach you a lesson in how to be obedient.” Her free hand trails a single gloved finger between the valley of your breasts. “But first, we simply _must_ get you out of these rags.”

With that, she grabs the collar of the threadbare shirt you’re wearing and rips it off in a single fluid movement. You gasp at both the suddenness of the action as well as the feeling of cool air hitting your bare skin. She does away with your pants in much the same manner, so that you are left before her naked and trembling not entirely from the cold.

“There. Isn’t that better?”

You nod. Well, as best you can nod with her hand clenching your neck.

She smiles once again. “Seems there’s hope for you yet. Now, I want you to hold onto the edge of the table. You mustn’t let go unless I tell you to. Can you do that for me, my pet?”

You move your hands to each side, fumbling to find the edge as you can’t look away from her. Once you do, you hold on as requested.  
“That’s it, my pet,” she croons her praise to you.

A shudder as you take in the words. You want to hear her say more like them, so you do your best not to falter as her gloved hand dances over your chest. She grasps a breast. You suck in a breath and arch into the touch. Heat flows along your veins as she massages the flesh there, another gasp as she catches the nipple between her fingers. You look up to see her biting at her oh so crimson lip.

“What a lovely sight you make, my pet, here at my mercy.” The leather of her glove slides down your stomach, lower and lower. She moves forward slightly, her wide hips easily pushing your knees apart. You almost let go to try and cover yourself, but instead try to turn your eyes away. It’s embarrassing to know how wet you’ve gotten from these few touches.

It didn’t escape the Lady’s notice either. “Oh my. Seems like you’re certainly enjoying this lesson,” she teased as she slides her fingers over your slick folds.

You can’t help a moan escape you at the feel of the leather against such a delicate place. Your fingernails bite into the wood of the table as you hold on with all you have. Every part of you wants to reach out and touch her, yet you know cannot, must not, for fear of punishment. Your hips rock against her hand, seeking some friction for relief. She is gracious enough to provide it, drawing slow circles over your clit as she presses just a bit harder down on your neck. The pace is maddeningly slow, tears threatening to fall from the frustration. Your lips wordlessly plead, eyes begging her for just one more allowance.

But with a sudden shift, she pulls away. You let out a choked cry at the lack of her touch, frustrated tears now spilling over.

“Now, now, darling. You haven’t finished your lesson quite yet.”

Before you could react, she picks you up once again and tosses you to the floor. The stones are frigid against the heat of your flushed skin. Her dress slides by you as you try to right yourself. Looking up, you see her pull out the nearest chair, lowering herself into it. She leans back and props her head on one hand, eyes hooded and lips curled in a vicious smile. Her look is all that she needs to beckon you, so you crawl to her. Just before you reach her, she puts a heeled foot to your shoulder to hold you in place. You raise your eyes to meet hers, ready for her command.

“You’re doing so well for me. Doing like I ask, waiting so patiently,” she praised, voice far too sweet. She takes her long skirt in her hand, sliding it ever so slowly upward. “If you keep this up, I might just give you that reward you’re so eager for.”

You swallow hard at the sight of her white stockings held in place by a matching garter belt. They were barely lighter than her too pale thighs but were absent a pair of panties, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“But…” Her words snap your sights back up to her. “You’re not allowed to use your hands. I’m sure you can manage that, my pet,” she says with a wicked glint in her eye.

You merely nod as she drops her foot, allowing you to proceed. Your breath comes in shaky huffs as your cheek brushes against the lace on her thigh. You can’t help but to run your lips and tongue across the line where it meets her skin. The chair legs offer you something to hold to lessen the temptation to touch her. You trail heated kisses along the softness of her inner thigh, going ever upward to your destination. So eager to please are you, that you set to work despite your nervousness. The glimmer of her slick catches the dim candlelight as you run your tongue over her. She tastes almost of the deep red wine you had seen in the cellar. There’s a contented sigh from above you that spurs you on. You flick, circle, and suckle her clit, changing the pace as needed to keep the sensation novel. Her hand winds its way into your hair, holding your head right where she wants it. Looking up, you see that she has pulled the top of her dress down to expose her heavy breasts, her other hand fondling them and teasing her darkened nipples. You can hear her breath becoming shallow, at times hitching as she grinds her hips into your mouth. One of her heels digs into your back, but you revel in the sting of it, in the way she’s fucking herself on your mouth to chase her own climax. You feel your own arousal dripping down your thighs at the thought of her using you like this. Her thighs then clamp together around your head, muffling the sounds of her tumbling over the peak of her orgasm. If you were to die like this, it might not be such a bad thing.

The vise of her thighs does relent though. You gasp for much needed air as you sit back on your heels. Her hand cups your chin, tilting your face up to look at her.

“You’ve done wonderfully, my pet,” she purrs. “I do believe I promised you a reward if you behaved.”

For a moment, you are confused. Was this not the reward? To be allowed to taste of this vast woman? She motions for you to stand and leads you back to the table. A gentle hand turns you to face it as she stands behind you. It is then you understand and barely need the pressure of her hand pushing into your back to guide you down to its polished surface. The warmth of your body quickly seeps into the wood, warming it beneath your breasts. Her hand ghosts down your spine leaving goosebumps in its wake. She takes a moment to knead the ample flesh of your ass before slipping her fingers through your wet folds. There’s no point in trying to hold back your moans now, especially when she presses two fingers into you. Your breath hitches as you stretch around her.

She leans forward to whisper sweetly, “That’s it, my pet. Open up for me.”

And you do. You part your legs just a bit further so she can thrust into you more fully. Her breath is on the back of your neck as she curves her fingers in just the right way each time they plunge back into you. It feels like she’s surrounding you, filling you, pushing you ever closer to the edge. You won’t last much longer like this. Pleas tumble from your mouth with every breath, each bit of air you can get used to beg her for release. That is when you feel the sudden sharpness of her biting into your shoulder. The pain combines with your pleasure to push you over that ledge and fall, fall, fall.

_Oh, how far you have fallen._


	2. Hope Plays a Wicked Game With The Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You explore a bit of the castle and spend some "quality time" with your mistress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all can thank my best friend for cyberbullying me into writing more of this lol. To keep the fic tags from becoming novel length, I will be adding any new tags to the chapter notes where they show up. And remember folks, aftercare is an important and necessary part of kink activities!
> 
> Tags: overstimulation, sex toys, aftercare

After Lady Dimitrescu had, well, _claimed_ you, she took you up into her arms. The haze of exhaustion that overcame you made the subsequent events difficult to remember. Small visions of winding hallways, a bedroom with heavy curtains drawn, a lamp being extinguished. The sleep that consumed you was heavy, filled with strange whispers and ever shifting shadows.

A sliver of light streaming from between the curtains and the sound of someone moving in the room stirs you. Blinking, you try to make out the details of the room around you. You are laying in a four-poster bed with what feels like an expensive set of sheets. The light that had so callously pulled you from your slumber was covered by a figure, who you could rightly assume was a maid from her uniform, yanking the curtain fully shut. In the now dimmed light, you could still clearly see the gold filigree details gracing the walls of the ornate, yet a touch small, bedroom. 

You sit up, a dull pain radiating from your right shoulder reminding you of what had transpired the day before. As the covers fall away, they reveal that you had been dressed in a nightgown before being left to rest. A sigh of relief that you hadn’t been naked to greet a stranger. The maid seems to notice your movement and turns to you, a neutral expression sliding into place with the ease of many years’ practice. 

“Good morning, miss,” she says with a small curtsy. “Your breakfast is on the nightstand and a bath has been drawn, as per the Lady’s request. She asked that I inform her when you woke.”

It’s strange to be addressed in such a formal way. You simply nod, at a loss for words as she sweeps past you and out the door to attend to what duties may occupy her. A grumble rolls through your stomach reminding you how long it’s been since you’ve eaten. You see that the tray holds a plate of sausage and an omelet as you set it in your lap. The first bite you take turns your appetite ravenous. You speed through the meal, seemingly unable to get the food into your stomach fast enough.

Soon though, it’s gone, and you remember the maid saying something about a bath. Rising from the bed, you place the tray back on the nightstand and move to the second door in your room, which you can only assume is the bathroom. Entering you observe that the design is similar to that of the bedroom, gold accents on white walls. The mirror above the white marble vanity bears an ornate gold frame that speaks of wealth. A towel sits folded on the counter next to the sink. You see your reflection and note that you seem in decent health, besides some dark circles under your eyes, your hair a bit longer than you remember the last time you saw yourself. Pulling down the shoulder of your nightgown, you inspect the place where you’d been bitten. The mark was an angry red, the skin around it already beginning to bruise, with some dried blood around it proving how deep her teeth had sunk in. 

Your thoughts are pulled back to that moment. The sensation of her hands on you, in you. Her breasts pressing into your back, your face pressed into the wood of the table. 

You shake your head to return your focus on what you came in here for, catching the blush on your face in the mirror. Turning you see the large clawfoot tub, whisps of steam still rising from the water’s surface. You pull the thin gown over your head and toss it aside. The water is welcome in its warmth as you step in, carefully lowering yourself until all but your head is submerged. There are several bottles of shampoos and conditioners, as well as a bar of soap, all of floral fragrances that you can’t quite place. Jasmine? Rose? Gardenia perhaps? It mattered little, so you dip your head fully into the water to wet your hair. The fragrant liquid pours into your hand before you work it into suds in your hair, fingers massaging along your scalp. You weren’t sure how long it had been since you’d had a bath. It was hard to track the passage of time down in the dungeon. You rinse, the flowery scent clinging to every strand, and think that you prefer this much more. It was by the Lady’s grace that you’re here, and by luck that she took a liking to you even more so. You pick up the soap, running it along your shoulders, gingerly washing the flaked blood from the wound. Once it was properly cleaned, you continued to the rest of your body, thoroughly scrubbing every inch of skin.

You feel much more refreshed as you emerge from the water, pulling the plug to let it drain. You grab the towel and begin drying yourself off, trying to get your hair as dry as you can. There’s a comb in the top drawer of the vanity that you make use of, wrangling your hair into a simple style. 

With the towel wrapped around your chest, you walk out of the bathroom and jump nearly out of your skin to see Lady Dimitrescu sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the bed waiting for you.

She turns to you with a smile. “There you are, darling. I was beginning to wonder if you had slipped and bumped your head in there.”

Your heart hammers against your ribcage, both from being startled and at your state of nakedness beneath the towel, though you know she has seen you in much less. She beckons you over with a curved finger and your feet cannot help but pull you towards her. 

“I have something for you, my pet,” she says as you now stand in front of her. She holds something up to you which looks to be a jumble of straps and metal clasps. Your brow furrows in confusion.

She hooks a finger into the top of your towel and tugs, the cloth unravelling and sliding to the floor. You swallow hard as your pulse quickens again. She then takes each of your arms and guides them through some openings in the straps.

“You will wear this at all times, with the exception of when you are sleeping or bathing,” she informs you, her tone communicating that this was not up for negotiation. She motions for you to turn and you comply. She sets to connecting the straps across your back and buckling the collar they were connected to around your neck. “After all,” she says tapping you to turn once again. “Every pet needs a collar, don’t they? To show who they belong to.”

The heat of a blush creeps into your cheeks as she adjusts the straps that cradle your breasts, acting almost like a bra in their own right. It hadn’t quite sunken in that you _belonged_ to her, that she truly owned you. You found that you didn’t mind the idea, enjoyed it even.

She hooks her finger into the metal ring attached to the front of your collar, drawing you closer to her. You see her eyes flit to your lips before pulling you into a kiss. At first, you are surprised. Her lips are soft against yours and your eyes drift shut as you return the kiss. It’s slow, pulling you deeper into it with every passing moment. Her tongue slides against your lips and you part them on instinct. How can you deny her? You feel the smile on her lips as she deepens the kiss, her tongue dancing with yours. You grasp her arms to steady yourself, overwhelmed. She pulls away and your lips chase hers, unwilling to part so soon.

She chuckles and licks her lips. “There’s some clothes for you in the dresser,” she says in an amused tone, nodding to said dresser sitting opposite the bed. 

You manage to tear yourself away enough to glance at it. Right, clothes. Reluctantly, you make your way to the dresser. Inside you find blouses, dresses, underwear, and stockings in the first two drawers. Your brow furrows. You never much cared for dresses and the like. 

Seeing your hesitation, she asks, “Something not to your liking, darling?”

You love when she calls you that. It makes you feel important to her. You are uncertain in your response. “Are there…pants in here? I…I don’t really like dresses.”

She nods. “Of course. Try the next drawer down.”

You do as she says and, lo and behold, there are several pairs of slacks. Breathing a sigh of relief, you grab a pair of lacy panties, wool socks, a button-down shirt, and a pair of black slacks. The panties were more for her than you, just in case. You set to dressing yourself, aware of her eyes on you. Grateful for not accidently tripping over yourself while putting on your pants, you make your way back to her while buttoning up your shirt. She stills your hands.

“Leave a couple buttons open, my pet. I want everyone to see your lovely collar,” she murmurs, eyes fixed on your neck.

You nod and drop your hands.

She taps her chin thoughtfully. “I would like you to address me as ‘mistress’ or ‘my lady.’ Whichever one feels best for you.”

You smile since you had been about to ask what to call her. Didn’t want to be too informal or too formal. “Of course, mistress.”

She nods with a small smile as she continues. “You may go in all the unlocked rooms in this wing, though it might be a tad boring since some are empty. There is a modest library down the hall if you enjoy reading. But I must warn you,” You perk up at this, listening intently. “Don’t try to go anywhere else or my daughters will see to it that you are shown back to your room.” Her tone was firm and the implication that her daughters would not be gentle in their escort was left unsaid. If the one you ran into before was any indication, you would have no problem sticking to this section of the house.

You nod. “I’ll be sure to stick to this wing then, mistress.”

“Good.” She rises from her place on the bed, her full height reaching even over the top of the four-poster bed. “I have some business to attend to, however, if I have need of you, I’ll have one of the servants send for you.”

She turns and makes her way to the door. And, oh is it a lovely view as you watch her crouch to get through the doorway. The door shuts behind her and you let out a sigh. She is one hell of a woman that you’ve gotten involved with. 

You open the door and step out into the hallway, your mistress nowhere in sight. Gas lamps and candelabras illuminate the shadows in warm light. You step softly as you set to exploring the rooms available to you. Like your mistress said, each room was devoid of life, an oppressive silence following you with every step. Yet, you couldn’t escape the feel of eyes upon you. With every bedroom, office, and closet you came across, there was the sense of being watched, even though there seemed to not be another soul for that persistent gaze to belong to. 

The hallway reached its end at a pair of large oak doors, into which were carved the story of Lucifer’s rebellion and subsequent casting out from heaven. You run your hand over the intricate carvings, admiring how long it must’ve taken to make something so massive and still retain such a level of detail. The doors were large enough for even your mistress to walk through without bending. Although you did wonder as you grasp the brass handle, made to resemble a snake poised to strike, why weren’t all the doors tall enough since she lives here?

What greeted you as you pulled the door open is something that would hardly be described as a “modest” library. It reached two floors up, with the higher level open in the center to accommodate the large chandelier. However grand, the chandelier couldn’t hold a candle to the enormous stained-glass window that dominated the wall opposite you. Depicted was the fallen Lucifer, face twisted upward in anger to heaven and tears streaming from his eyes, wings broken and burnt. Above him, the angels who had followed him were falling from heaven, wings aflame and seeming to cry out in anguish. The detail was stunning and reflected the true craftsmanship needed to make it, just like the door you still held in your hand. It would seem that whoever built this was extremely interested in that particular part of Christian mythology. 

You step in, eyes drifting over the shelves laden with leather-bound books, the twin staircases that led to the upper level framing the stained-glass, a writing desk tucked away into the corner, the chaise lounging couch sitting in front of the window, even an ebony grand piano sitting right below the chandelier. Well, there were certainly enough books here to keep you occupied for a long time. Though as you picked one from the shelf that bore a title in French, you might need to learn another language to understand them. You place it back on the shelf and run your finger along the spines of its neighbors, trying to find something a bit more your speed. A title catches your eye. _The Complete Works of Poet John Milton._ You pull the thick book of poetry off the shelf, noting that, like the last one, there wasn’t a speck of dust to be found. The thought of having to clean such a large room boggles the mind.

Book tucked securely under your arm, you walk to the couch now bathed in the vibrant colors of the stained-glass towering over it. You flop unceremoniously down onto the plush cushions and begin reading.

The hours pass swiftly, your solitude only broken once by a maid bringing in a lunch consisting of soup, bread, and tea. You thank her and she leaves just as quietly as she came. The light from the window dims as it moves across the floor, orange glow of the setting sun transforming its depiction into something decidedly more hellish.

It was in this flame-tinged light that you were once again pulled from your reading, ironically while in the first few stanzas of _Paradise Lost._ The knock that sounded from the now open doorway had startled you. You are beginning to learn that the staff here were unnervingly quiet in their movements. Lifting your gaze from the page, you see the same maid from before.

She curtsies to you. “Good evening, Miss. Lady Dimitrescu has requested your presence. If you’ll come with me, please.” Her tone is formal, as always.

A blush dusts your cheeks at the expectation of what your mistress would call on you for. You clear your throat and use the ribbon on the book to save your place, then set it on the small table next to you.

“Of course,” you say, stretching your legs as you lift up from the couch. “Lead the way.”

She gives you a curt nod in acknowledgement and stands aside as you walk past her. Once you’ve exited, she closes the doors behind you, turning to walk a brisk pace down the hallway. You have a hard time keeping up with her and settle for being a few steps behind. She turns down another hallway and then ascends a set of stairs. 

The new floor you find yourself on is much like the one below it, however, you notice that the ceilings are not only higher, but are also vaulted. As you follow after the maid, you see that there are fewer doors as well. Perhaps the rooms are bigger? 

Your thoughts are cut short by the maid stopping abruptly in front of a set of imposing double doors fashioned of rosewood and bearing swirling flower patterns. She opens the doors wide and steps through, you entering right behind.

The room is enormous, more than five times the size of your room on the floor below. You see a massive bed with a proportionally large headboard, padded and covered in cream colored silk. The bedspread is a striking crimson made of similarly luxurious material, as you had begun to notice was true of everything in this wing of the castle. However, the most luxurious thing of all was your mistress lounging in a chair next to the dressing table. She turns her head in your direction and a smile quirks her blood red lips.  
“Finally, you’re here.” She nods to the maid. “You are dismissed.”

The maid curtsies and leaves, shutting the doors behind her.

As you look back to your mistress, your eyes travel up the vast expanse of her legs stretched out in front of her. Your heart quickens its pace as you make your way to her, anticipation singing along every nerve. 

She rests her chin on one hand, eyes hooded as they follow your movement. Her hat is gone and so are her gloves, revealing dark curls and pale hands with perfectly manicured short black nails. She gestures to a bottle of wine and a glass that sit on the table.

“Pour me a drink, my pet. I’ve had a most stressful day,” she purrs, voice flowing languid through the air. 

You pick the bottle up and work the cork out of it, aware of your mistress’ eyes on you the whole time. There’s a pop as you finally free it. You slowly tip it, careful not to let any spill, yet also careful not to overfill the glass. Had heard somewhere that fancy wines need room to breathe, whatever that meant. You hand her the glass and she takes it, her fingers brushing over yours, lingering a moment longer than necessary.

“Thank you, darling.” She takes a sip, closing her eyes with a soft moan. “Lovely.”

Even you can tell she’s doing this on purpose, and you can’t deny that it’s affecting you all the same. You know she can see the creeping up your neck, knows that your gaze lingers longer than it should.

She motions to her feet with the glass. “Be a dear and rub my feet, won’t you? They’re awfully sore from wearing these heels all day.”

You nod. “Of course, mistress.”

Setting the bottle back down, you move in front of her, kneeling at her feet. She holds her foot up for you to remove her shoes. You unbuckle one, then the other, and start massaging them to the best of your ability. She lets out a satisfied hum and leans further back in her chair, swirling her wine in its glass.

“Hmm, so wonderful to have someone competent for once. All the fools I have to suffer…” She takes another sip. “Can be terribly grating.”

“I can imagine it would,” you respond, picking up the other foot to give it similar treatment. Her nylons feel heavenly beneath your fingertips, reminding you what lay further up those long legs of hers. You bite your lip, unable to stop your thoughts from drifting to the last time you had knelt before her in such a way.

Her voice jolts your mind out of the gutter. “You seem to be enjoying yourself down there.”

“I just- I simply enjoy serving you, mistress,” you stammer, failing your attempt to not trip over your words.

A wry smile pulls at her lips. “Mm-hmm. Sit up for me, would you?”

You do so, rising from your haunches while still knelt. She lowers her leg and slides it between your legs, her shin pressing into you. You gasp at the contact, latching onto her knee and leaning into it.

She tsks at you. “Just as I thought. Thinking naughty thoughts again, my pet?”

You bury your face into her knee as you roll your hips. How could you not think of her that way? Looking as gorgeous as she does? With just a look setting your core aflame?

The heat of your breath saturates the fabric of her skirt as you continue rubbing against her, desperate for friction even through the layers of your clothes.

“Oh, look at you, humping my leg like a bitch in heat,” she mocked from above. “Do I get you worked up so easily?”

You nod, face still buried in her knee from embarrassment.

She huffs an overly dramatic sigh. “Well, I guess I’ll have to do something about it then.” You feel a tap on your shoulder. As you raise your head, she grabs your chin. “Take off your clothes, darling.”

The elation you feel drives you to your feet, fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. Her eyes rake over you as she takes a long sip of the wine, gaze like a leopard stalking its prey. She hikes her skirt up one of her legs all the way to her hip as you toss aside the shirt and work at removing your pants, revealing the garter holding her nylons up. Once you’ve rid yourself of the pants, as well as your now soaked underwear, she leans forward and hooks a finger into the ring on your collar, guiding you up onto her lap to straddle her exposed thigh.

You quiver as her skin makes direct contact with your pussy, making her thigh slick beneath you. To steady yourself, you grip the plush armrests. 

“Much better, hm? Go ahead and have fun, my pet.” She leans back in the chair once more and refills her glass. “I’ll just sit here and take in the view.”

“Thank you,” you breathe as you begin grinding on her thigh, fingers sinking into the armrests at the effort to stay upright.

Knowing that she’s watching you as you get yourself off on her amplifies the sensations jolting up your spine. You find a good rhythm sliding your hips along her thigh, the lace of the garter occasionally brushing your clit and making your breath hitch. Her chest is eye level with you in this position, torturing you with how close they are. You aren’t sure you’re allowed to touch, and you don’t want to take the risk. Her heavy breasts rise and fall in the tempo of each breath. You swallow hard, wishing you could bury your face in them, surround yourself in their pillowy softness. There’s a tension building in your lower abdomen warning of how close you are. You grind down harder and faster, eyes fluttering shut as you try to chase your climax.

However, you are suddenly yanked upward by the ring on your collar, pulling a startled yelp from your lungs. She holds you up out of reach of the source of your stimulation. You grasp her forearm to keep your balance.

“Ah, ah, ah. I don’t believe I gave you permission to come yet,” she chides, wicked grin showing that she fully intended this from the start.

You let out a needy whine at being denied when you were so close. She moves her hand from the collar to cup your chin, pulling you in close as she takes a sip of the wine. Leaning down to meet your lips with her own, she parts them, letting the dark fluid flow into your mouth. You swallow it, the taste of her saturating the bouquet. She continues to kiss you, her tongue exploring your mouth as she desires, and you can’t stifle your moan as she does so. Her teeth catch your lower lip and nip at it before pulling away.

Her eyes stay closed a few moments longer than yours do. When she does open them, that predatory gleam is stronger than ever.

“Up,” came the terse command, and she didn’t need to repeat herself.

You dismount her lap as best you can on such shaky legs. She rises from her seat to tower over you once more and you know you’ll never get sick of having to crane your neck to look at her. Pulling you by the collar of your harness, she walks toward the massive bed (massive to you, perfectly sized for her). When you reach it, she turns her back to you.

“Unzip me, would you?” she requests, glancing at you over her shoulder.

Standing on tiptoe, you’re just barely able to reach the top of the zipper. Once you get a hold of it, you pull it down, reveling in every inch of skin it reveals to you. When you’ve fully unzipped her, the dress falls gently to the floor and she turns to face you. Although with how tall she is, it’s not her face that you happen to be eye level with. In that moment, you are struck by the softness of her body’s abundant curves. Hopefully, you’ll be able to take your time getting familiar with them.

“On the bed.” 

You climb up onto it as you catch her grabbing something from the nightstand out of the corner of your eye. Sat back on your heels near the foot of the bed, you wait for her as she lays back against the padded headboard and gets comfortable. When you’re finally able to see what’s in her hand, you squirm in excitement.

“Ah, you noticed this,” she purrs, holding the dildo up. You can see that it’s an off-white color, around 10 inches long, and had wide ridges running down the shaft to the slightly larger base. “Lovely, isn’t it? Hand-carved ivory. One of my favorites.” The last bit is accompanied by a wink as she brings the tip to her lips.

The dildo glides over her skin as she drags it down her chest, never breaking eye contact with you. She holds your gaze firmly, for how could you look away? Her legs part to give a full view as she traces patterns inside her thighs.

“You’ll stay right where you are until I say otherwise, am I clear?” 

“Yes.” Your reply is immediate, pulled from your lungs on a whispered breath.

“Mm, good,” she affirms as she drags the tip through her wet folds.

Your heart skips as you watch it slip inside her, biting your lip at the sight of the shaft disappearing as it eases into her. She leans her head back against the pillows and headboard with a satisfied hum as she slowly slips it in and out, covering the shaft in her arousal. Her free hand busies with fondling her breast, rolling the nipple between her fingers. All of your focus is trained on her, eyes trying to absorb every detail, every roll of her hips, every wet sound. You want more than anything to touch her, to grasp the base of that dildo and be the one to fuck her with it, to feel her massive thighs wrap around your waist. Your hands sit on your knees, fists clenched to ensure that you obey her. Her pace increases, which catches your attention. She must be getting close, the slick dripping with each thrust.

But she slows her workings, heavy eyes lifting to lock with yours. Her blood red lips curve in a way that shoots straight into your core.

“Would you like to finish this, my pet?” 

It’s a question whose answer is obvious by how tightly strung you are, how you hang on each word as it vibrates the air. You nod, still awaiting the final confirmation.

She cocks an eyebrow in a confident smirk. “Well, get to it then.”

Before she had even finished the sentence, you had sprung forward like a windup toy. You clamber up between her legs and slide your hand under hers to wrap around the base of the shaft. She chuckles at your enthusiasm as you thrust the toy forward, your face buried snugly in her soft, heavy breasts. You kiss your way over the pliant flesh and bask in the feel of them pressed to your cheeks as you work the toy inside her, lost to desire. Her hips meet your thrusts, hands gliding over your back and through your hair as you take a nipple into your mouth to suckle ferociously. Moans and hitching breaths urge you to move faster, harder, grind the heel of your hand into her clit as you fuck her. And you’ve never wanted something quite so much as to make her come, to be able to get her there with your own efforts. Her muscles tense, her nails dig into your shoulders, and you keep your frantic pace, knowing that it’ll only take a little bit more. Her climax is heralded by loud moans and the sting of nails raking over your back. With slow, shallow thrusts you help her ride the waves of pleasure and bring her down from the high. 

A decadent sigh escapes her as you slip the elegant toy out, the gas lights glimmering on its wet surface. She takes it from you and sets it on the nightstand. You’re awfully tempted to let your head fall back into her mountainous breasts, but the sound of her voice draws your attention.

“You’ve done a wonderful job, my pet,” she croons, cupping your face with her hand.

You lean into the touch, smiling from such sweet praise. An arm snakes around your back and she rolls you over, carefully laying your head on the silk pillows. 

“Such a well-behaved pet…” she presses a light kiss to your lips, “deserves…” another kiss to your neck, “a treat…” one more to the valley of your breasts, “don’t you think?”

Each kiss leaves a crimson smudge on your skin as she goes even lower to mark your stomach, eyes ever locked with your own. She’s already telling you what she’s going to do, wants to see the realization, the anticipation, dawn on you as she agonizingly drifts lower, lower. Her hands grip the insides of your thighs, holding them apart as she plants a kiss on your hip bone. She gives you one last glance, hovering over your exposed pussy, before running her tongue through the aching, wet flesh. A shuddering breath passes your lips, hands grip the sheets, head falls back into the pillows as she takes her time tasting you, tongue occasionally dipping into your entrance. Your thighs and hips twitch, trying to get just a bit more sensation, but she holds you down, setting the slow but steady pace. You whine, frustrated, a release of the tension in your core all you can think of. Even with how tight your thread was pulled, the slow build kept relief just out of reach. Your back bowed, relaxed, bowed again, stretching toward that thing you had become so desperate for. Those crimson lips locked tight around your clit, sucking at the bundle of nerves in a way that drove all the air from your lungs. The sudden change brings you right up to the edge almost immediately. A moment more tumbling over it, a high-pitched moan let loose as you unravel.

You expect her to slow, let up, but she doesn’t, keeps the pressure on and even swirls her skilled tongue to increase the sensation. Your vision swims, overwhelmed by the constant onslaught of heightened stimulation. She pushes your thighs upward, knees nearly touching your chest. You feel it building again already as your mistress seems determined to push you over the edge a second time. It’s all so much, the pressure of her tongue, the heat of her mouth unrelenting, that you soon fall, nearly sobbing.

A choked cry as she slides her fingers into you. You wonder if this is cruelty as your body shakes from all the effort. Unfallen tears blur the edges of your sight, thoughts fragmented, fading to instinct.

“I…I can’t—” you plead, voice wavering, cut off by a moan.  
You feel her lift her head, giving you a small reprieve, though her fingers continue to thrust into you. Trying to sit up to look at her, you see her lipstick is all but gone, smudged all over your aching pussy.

“Oh, I know it’s hard, my pet. But I know you can come one more time for me. Just once more for me, please?” Her voice was overly sweet and encouraging. 

And you want to prove her right. You want to give her what she asks. You want to make her proud. 

You nod and take a deep breath to steady yourself, which helps as she starts to rub your over-stimulated clit with her thumb. Her fingers curl inside you with every movement, carefully working to build you back up, tug that thread ever tighter. Your legs tremble as you try to spread them a little wider for her. 

“That’s it, darling. You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, peppering light kisses to your thighs and stomach to soothe you.

A haze falls over your mind, blurring all but the flowing pleasure. You give in and let the pressure build, muscles straining as they clench. Back arched, silent scream caught in your throat, the thread snaps. The world spins and lights dance behind your eyes.

When your senses return, your mistress is pulling you into her lap, cradling your face in her hand. You cling to her as tightly as your exhausted limbs would allow, head buried in her chest. She showers you with praise, telling you how you’ve been so good for her, how proud she is. You can’t hold back the tears this time. They’re searing their way down your cheeks, but she catches them, wipes them away.

“I’ll be right back, ok?” she says softly as she lays you back on some pillows to keep you propped up. 

She walks through a door to your right and you hear the sound of a faucet turning on. You attempt to stretch your legs, finding them stiff and weak. It isn’t surprising after all the strain they were under. You just hope that when you eventually stand that you don’t immediately fall over and make a fool of yourself.

After a few minutes, the door opens and your mistress enters, wearing a white silk robe with black rose embroidery. She carries a bowl, steam curling from the surface of the water held in it, and a washcloth, which she sets down on the nightstand. You can tell that she’s washed her face, her lips bare and her crow’s feet a bit more noticeable. As she kneels down at the side of the bed, you’re taken aback by how much softer she looks like this. Gone was the mantle of the infamous Lady Dimitrescu, set aside like a piece of clothing. Maybe it was just the dim light of the gas lamps playing a trick on your eyes.

“Can you come to the edge of the bed, darling?” she asks, dipping the washcloth in the warm water before wringing it out.  
You shift yourself over, swinging your legs over the side. She gently nudges your knees apart and begins cleaning the inside of your thighs.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I can bathe myself, you know.”

She continues, unfazed by the comment. “I’m certain that you can. But, I doubt that your legs are strong enough to carry you to the bathroom at the moment,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone. She spares a glance up at you. “Am I wrong?”

A defeated sigh is all you can give as an answer. 

“Thought so.” She soaks then wrings the cloth again before carefully dabbing your vagina.

You wince, but know she’s being as gentle as possible with you. “You don’t have to,” you mutter under your breath.

“I do, though. You belong to me, therefore, you are my responsibility to care for.” She said it as though it was the most logical thing. “It would not benefit me if I went around breaking my possessions like an angry toddler.” 

Setting the bowl aside, she stands up and walks to the other side of the room, gathering up your discarded clothes. When she returns, she sets them down next to you.

She offers a hand to help you stand. “Let’s get you dressed, darling.”

You take her hand, and she pulls you up to stand. While your legs are a bit wobbly, you’re able to stand well enough. She leaves you to it and goes to pour herself more wine. You pick up your clothes and get to dressing, deciding to forgo your underwear since they were obviously no longer clean. Getting your pants on without falling is a challenge, but you’re able to manage it, your shirt being much less complex of a task.

Once done, you walk over to her, not quite sure what to do next. Wineglass in one hand, she uses the other to tip your chin up.

“Thank you for keeping me company tonight.” She bends down and gives you a quick kiss, far briefer than you’d like. “I will be retiring for the evening though, so you are free to go.”

The simple dismissal made your heart sink, but you kept your face from showing it. You simply nod, stepping back from her. “Think nothing of it, mistress.”

She turns away and sits in her chair, making her dismissal final. You make your way to the door, pushing your uncomfortable feelings away. As you open the door to leave, you pause.

“Good night, mistress,” you say over your shoulder, voice barely above a whisper. 

With that, you close the door and heave a sigh, unsure if you’ll be able to keep from thinking of her tonight. 

_Hope, too, can be cruel._


End file.
